The group camped, sheltering themselves and waiting for their wounded comrades to recover for two days. They all marvelled at the efficacy of the potions of the Forge Father's priests. The two who had been brought back from the brink of death were heavily fatigued, their bodies’ energy absorbed by the magic of the potion to drive their healing. All there the physical wounds were closed and healed, remaining as nothing more than fresh scars, and even those were light and slowly fading. Not even an honourable battle scar would remain. Jeria ranged forth, scouting the area, not going far, but far enough to get the sense that there was something else in the area. He knew they could not move on until D'Fir and Gyv were improved, but each hour worried him further, increased his worry, his stress and the tension he felt.

In that time Sister Egrit and D’Fir started to come to some sort of accord. They talked long of philosophy, and D’Fir was astounded at the depth of knowledge the woman showed. The more they interacted, the more he suspected she was more than she seemed. On her part, Sister Egrit had evidently decided to be more tolerant, less outspoken on the merits of magic versus technology. The arguments stopped, and peace was more common around the campfire.

Mekior and Gyv took themselves off to the side, still with the others, but far enough away that they had the illusion of privacy. For their part, the rest of the group allowed them the illusion, not doing anything blatant to interrupt the couples renewed love.

Neither Gyv nor D’Fir made for good patients; both were too used to physical activity, too used to an active existence to remain bed bound for any length of time. Even as the magic of the potions sapped their waking strength to heal them, they fought against their confinement. D’Fir rose, trying simple training exercises with his axe, cursing his weakened state. Gyv saw his inability, and tried a few exercises herself, before giving in to the fact that her body needed the enforced rest.

After two days, D’Fir and Gyv had recovered enough that they could start moving again and fight at close to their peak efficacy. Jeria felt relieved to finally vacate the area. His relief was short lived; tell-tale signs along their path showing that a group of some unknown beings had been along this path and had passed by recently. A glance at Gyv, and a quick nod from her and he knew she had seen the same signs. Jeria dropped back, allowing the group to catch up, and form a cohesive whole, the group taking a defensive formation. At least one positive thing had come from their last near-death encounter, the bickering and arguing had stopped.

"There is something down this way. I don't know what, but my best estimate is that there are at least seven of them. Proceed with caution; our last encounter was almost fatal." Jeria kept his voice low, not wanting to be overheard, his worry about what might lay ahead of them evident.

They continued down the path, Jeria and Gyv continuously picking up the signs of those that had gone ahead. Jeria held up a hand, bringing the group to a halt as he knelt, examining the trail that ran along theirs.

“They doubled back! They are behind us and don't need lanterns. It is fiends, or at least their creatures that are stalking us."

As if his words were a signal to hidden watchers, arrows shot out, four of them ripping into Sister Egrit, her eyes glazing over, death almost instantaneous from the cruel barbs and dark, mouldy paste that coated the arrowheads. D'Fir immediately charged towards the source, running straight into a wall of fire that sprang up between him and the group of small humanoids that had appeared, their cloak of invisibility dissipating as they initiated their attack.

He was burnt and blistered; his skin and armour covered in a layer of carbon that gave him the appearance of someone that had been in the fields fighting fires for weeks on end. Still, D'Fir still swung his axe, the dull grey blade of cold iron, with inlaid runes of silvery tracings, cutting into an armour clad, dragon-like creatures. The massive, powerful strokes sent innards flying and blood coated both him and the creature’s companions.

Gyv drew her sword, wondering how she would reach the creature; one arrow had burnt up as it sped towards them, the wall of flame an effective defence against the wooden projectiles. Jeria laughed, manic glee in his voice as he bounded through the flames, his red skin reflecting the flames, his fiendish blood yet again a boon when fighting the creatures serving the fiends. And Mekior, he stood indecision gutting him. Yet again he could help his friends, if he revealed his nature, and yet again he did not feel strong enough to do so.

Five of the creatures moved forward, three closing in on D'Fir, two moving towards Jeria. The last of the creatures stood behind them, their movements shielding her as her voice rang out, clearly; harsh syllables in the fiendish tongue framing an invocation to the Dark Powers that ruled in the realms beyond mere mortal perception.

The first of the creatures swung a halberd forward, chopping at D'Firs feet, while another swung high, cutting at his head. D'Fir had no choice but to move backwards, closer to the heat emanating from the wall of flame. Pain smote at him, radiating out from all his extremities, burnt and blistered from his previous trip through the flames. D'Firs eyes darted around, seeking an escape, succour from the flames that were all too close. He spun, astoundingly fast since the mere effort to move was an exercise in concentration and pain control. As he spun, his axe flashed, chopping the head from a halberd extended and not withdrawn fast enough, and the sharp point from the haft following through, flaying the skin from the face of the creature, crushing in bits of its skull along the way. His spin sent him crashing into the third creature that had not yet attacked, sending it flying, with its halberd landing up on the floor, its head smashing into the rocks nearby. For all his speed and skill though, the third halberd found him, cut into his shoulder. It was no more than a flesh wound, yet the poison on the weapon worked fast, sending his head reeling, his breathe coming in ragged gasps. Unable to concentrate or to focus, it left him open to the sharp dagger point at the tip of the halberd, disembowelling him, cutting him open from groin to neck.

Jeria did not see the heroic fall of D'Fir, as the twin halberds of his enemies causing him to act defensively, and his axe worked to keep their blades away from him. Above him, the seventh of the creatures completed its invocation, and a swirl of darkness indicated a portal about to open.

Unbelievably, D'Fir moved; all but dead, he brought the potion from his pack to his lips, healing his wounds. He stayed still, not wanting to attract attention; the creatures ignored him and thus presented him with an opportunity he could not forgo. Slowly he rose, his head reeling, breathing shallow and laboured yet the worst effects of the poison seemed to be wearing off; the intense drowsiness of the healing potion fighting to overcome his senses and send him to oblivion. His axe swung through the portal, dissecting the doorway, the enchantment and cold iron of his axe enough to disrupt the magic and send it crashing, the portal never completed. The mage turned to D'Fir, eyes burning, her mouth already forming another incantation.

Nearby Jeria finally made his move, his foot stamped down on a halberd blade as it chopped at him, trapping the weapon, while his axe spun out in the other direction, decapitating the creature wielding the second halberd. From the corner of his eye, he saw the mage start her invocation, the dire situation that D'Fir was in. Yet even as he started to move to save him, a dagger flew through the wall of flame, piercing the mages throat, laying it open to send blood spiralling into the air.

With the mage’s death the wall of flame dissipated the sole remaining creature stood looking at them, disarmed and fearful for its life. Jeria looked at Gyv, and the slight shake of her head as she knelt over Sister Egrit enough for him to know that they had lost one of their own. Her face stoic Gyv went to the mage, retrieved her dagger, and looked at D'Fir.

"How are you doing over there? Looked to me like you were a goner?"

"I'm fine, thanks to my uncle's foresight in packing in those potions. Sadly, not even his potions will help Sister Egrit." D'Fir stood, and went to the corpse of Sister Egrit. He was there for but a short time when his face reflected bafflement, then wonder.

"She's alive!" The others looked at him unbelieving. "Its true, her wounds are knitting, and the poison is pooling outside her body." D'Fir watched, seeing how the scars on her arms danced, lit up individually, a dance of magic around her body which faded into quiescence until Sister Egrit's body lay there whole, her breathing coming slowly, but steadily.

Mekior stepped forward and took the last creature by its throat, his gauntleted fist squeezing its throat, and then releasing it, dropping it to the ground. He glared at it harshly, addressing it in the tongue of the fiends. "Some answer, NOW! Next time I don't stop until you tongue hangs blue from your mouth. Who are you, what are you, and why are you here?"